Night and Moon

Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden scepter o’er a slumbering world.

Tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep!

Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth; While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.

The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.

Sweet the coming on Of grateful ev’ning mild, then silent night With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train.

The wakeful nightingale, She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas’d: now glow’d the firmament With living sapphires: Hesperus, that led The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen unveil’d her peerless light, And o’er the dark her silver mantle threw.

Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad.

Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.

How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smil’d!

Was I deceiv’d or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice morn on th’ Indian steep, From her cabin’d loophole peep.

What hath night to do with sleep?

The star that bids the shepherd fold.

Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth.

I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heav’n’s wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bow’d, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.

Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging low with sullen roar.

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright.

What if this present were the world’s last night?

’Tis the year’s midnight, and it is the day’s.

’Tis true, ’tis day; what though it be? O wilt thou therefore rise from me? Why should we rise, because ’tis light? Did we lie down, because ’twas night? Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither Should in despite of light keep us together.

The bright day is done, And we are for the dark.

By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks!

How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!

Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood.